


Lines of Demarcation

by muse_of_mbaku



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Black Character(s), Body Modification, F/M, Fluff, Original Character of Color, PoC character, Soulmates, Tattoos, alternative universe, limited dialouge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:56:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_of_mbaku/pseuds/muse_of_mbaku
Summary: A body modification AU in which Erik believes there is no soulmate for him.





	1. Chapter 1

Human beings need the basics to survive. Food. Shelter. Water. Everything else is negotiable. Everything else is a want. Wants are things Erik had learned to live without many years ago. He knew how to survive on the bare minimum and he knew how to live in luxury. Moving between both worlds was nearly seamless, but the barer life of need suited him much better than the false security of want. He knew the hard corners of that life. They made him appreciative, made him keenly aware that if you became too comfortable you were bound to be disappointed. 

Erik pulled the sweatshirt over his head and adjusted the hood until it settled properly about his neck. The sun had long since set and a chill had blanketed the city in those hours. Just as much as Erik knew about want versus need, he knew about routine and rituals. Routine was his daily run, the neat containers of meals stacked in his refrigerator, and the schedule that made his life move smoothly. Rituals were the orderly pattern of scars running the length of his right side that were beginning to creep towards the center of his torso. Those scars were made necessary by his need to remember what he was doing and why it was important. They were a way of making himself still feel something, anything, that would ease a pain he never really wanted to acknowledge. He was lonely. All around him the world moved in love and companionship. Or at least it seemed that way. Love wasn’t a need, yet Erik would be a fool not to admit he had stared into the mirror some nights hoping to see a new mark, nick, or cut. He searched his skin in the bright light of the bathroom for tattoos, a name, or a sign. There was never anything. So, it was safe for his ritual to begin. 

Erik slid the thinness of his phone and the jangle of his keys into the front pocket of the sweatshirt after securing the door behind him. Taking somber steps towards the elevator, the light flickered and faded from the briefest of moments and he made mental note to call the super about replacing the bulb in the morning. Erik leaned against the elevator’s back wall; his hands clasped inside the hoodie’s pocket. He’d make this trip, make his mark, and when the sun rose he’d fall back into life as if nothing had happened.   
***

Salome felt as if her knees would buckle. She gripped the edge of the desk in front of her until she felt static in her fingers. She tried to breath through it, tried to ignore the feeling of moisture against her skin. She knew that if she pressed her hand to the fiery space on her ribcage there would be nothing. No blood. No wound. Yet when she looked in the mirror that evening, she knew what would appear. Another scar, raised and smooth. Salome’s curiosity would find her under the showerhead on the evenings the pain came, trying to figure out just what was happening to her. She hadn’t been foolish enough believe this was her mate. Convention told her, and the rest of the world, that body modifications were life changing. They weren’t just a casual activity that carried no consequence. People understood that what you did to self was done to others. Salome refused to believe these scars, no matter how neatly applied, were from the person supposedly meant for her. 

Tonight, the pain was more pronounced. It wasn’t just physical. Something in her heart was hurting, too. It was like an animal was clawing to break free but there was nowhere for it to go. It was pacing inside her, coursing through her blood and making it difficult to concentrate. She’d settled at her desk hours ago, sketching and doodling as a way to break free from the loneliness that had pooled thickly around her. Salome braced her head against her folded forearms and sucked in deep breaths as the pain ebbed to a fever pitch and then dulled to a hum. She knew by morning she would feel nothing at all, left only with the reminder of her skin’s mystery.   
***

Erik had trained himself to think of the slice of the blade as cool. When he let himself feel the burning of his skin being splayed by even a fraction everything in his being went hot. So, he tried to place himself in the dead of winter, a cold Massachusetts night where he would be more numb than anything. He’d steady his hands and transport. When he was done with the blood, the smoke, the clay, and the oil, there was another reminder that each life he took was precious no matter how it had been lived. He’d stopped counting long ago. He was content with seeing just how much of his skin remained unmarked instead of how many times he’d shot, stabbed, or choked. 

Erik placed the precision blade on the sink’s edge. A sheen of blood coated the sterilized metal before pooling and dropping into the basin. He was done, another scar on another night. This one would heal as the others had and he’d move onto the next job whenever it arose. But now Erik needed a distraction. The nights after the scarring always sat heavy on his shoulders. He was a killer, but he wasn’t heartless. Whether he had to drown himself in a bottle or turn off his thoughts with something mindless, Erik knew too much time in his head would do nothing more than set off a spiral that was sometimes impossible to control.   
***

Salome needed to sleep. She was exhausted, but that caged feeling was still prowling inside her. The sketchbook before her had long since been abandoned and before she realized what she was doing, she’d taken a fine tipped marker to her arm. This is usually how her designs began, with the drag of blue ink on brown skin. She practiced this way because it made it easier when the needle sank into her client’s skin. By the time she committed their chosen art to their body for eternity, she knew the pressure and strokes it would take to make the tattoo come alive on her human canvas. 

Salome had become skilled at developing maps and messages for her clients, beautiful ways for one half to send a hopeful shout into the world for their mate. She loved the way her clients knew the importance of making sure what adorned their bodies would honor the fact it would appear somewhere else in the world without warning. Tonight, the pattern was different. It was her own shout into the void. As improbable as it may seem, the tension in her heart was making even the possibility of love something she needed to get out of her system. Salome lifted the pen in contemplation. 

Seven days. Seven messages popped into her mind. What was the harm in giving herself one week to actually believe in happily ever after? Salome placed pen to skin again, mapping out her first message while hoping someone out there was listening.   
***

Erik licked the tip of his finger and scrubbed it across the inside of his wrist. Where the wispy blue mark had come from he didn’t know, but he was too far away from the bathroom to get up and wash his hands. Besides, he was comfortable and moving was the last thing on his agenda. He dropped his hand back into his lap and returned his attention to the flicker of the television. A documentary’s subtitles kept his gaze for only a moment before a tickle across his palm took him out of the show once more. When Erik glanced down, that singular blue mark was now a swirling pattern that covered his upturned palm, looped around his wrist, and was travelling up his forearm. 

Whatever the markings may be, they were beautiful. Erik rotated his arm back and forth to get a better glimpse of the stark geometric patterns now sheathing his skin. It almost looked like a map, the way the hard lines all bundled into each other until they all pointed towards the only curve. A circle in the dead center of this wrist, right above the vein. Had Erik been a more optimistic man, he’d believe on the other end of these patterns was his soulmate. He tried to shake the thought from his head. He refused to believe the somewhere in the world was a woman made for him. He could only imagine that if there were she would be terrified of him, startled by the blood on his hands.


	2. Day One

Erik refused to believe. He’d scrubbed his skin until it was raw the night before, but as he drifted to sleep he could still see the bright blue as if it was etched into his skin since birth. He’d fallen into slumber angry at the world, and himself, for even remotely believing that when he awoke he’d been any less lonely. The brightness of day crept into his eyelids until Erik had no choice except to throw one arm across his face to block out the rays. He groaned from deep within his chest and opened eyes. His lashes fluttered against his forearm and Erik was reminded of the night before. He lifted his torso from the bed and inspected his arm. A blank canvas once more. Disappointment shot through Erik before he could stop it.

He’d been right and he’d been stupid. There was no one waiting for him the other side of the ink. If he believed the bullshit, how easy would it be to just write an address or a clear message? He didn’t have time for games. Any woman meant for him would be a straight shooter. Frustrated, Erik propelled his body back onto the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. He felt off kilter, incomplete in a way that was foreign to him. He’d allow himself a moment before it was time for ritual and routine once more.

Under the heated pressure of the shower, Erik soaped and rinsed normally even if his mind was miles away. He let the water run over the bulk over his shoulders, dropping his head to allow the water to cascade over him. It helped ease his tension, but his entire body coiled to the point of cramping when the faint blue began to seep into his skin again. Erik could see the pattern forming as if he was writing it with his own hand. This time, the geometric patterns formed a skyline, one he knew like the back of his hand. Oakland.

***

Curled onto her sofa, Salome had blocked out the world. The sun had yet to rise before she had taken her favorite spot and gathered her pen. She’d wanted to sleep in, but her mind couldn’t let go of her plans. She’d tossed and turned thinking about what she should do. The easy route was to write an address, a time, and a date and see who showed up. Something in her balked. She’d seen the consequences of forced meetings. Soulmates didn’t mean an ease of love nor did it mean that everyone was ready when their partner was. Salome wanted to make sure that if there was someone on the other side, they’d be invested enough to find her and interested enough to come to her via her art. 

Unlike the other maps that had come so effortlessly to her mind, Salome was having difficulty trying to come up with something meant to bring her happiness of her own design. She sketched the skyline of Oakland, unsure of how to narrow down the mass of people within the city without pointing a neon arrow directly at her location. She didn’t want that. Whether it be some ill formulated thought, Salome wanted to be courted. She wanted to feel as if she was the reward at the end of a journey. She carried the scars of someone, scars that had altered her life, and if they were to link their lives together she deserved to know that whoever was meant for her knew that she was worth it. And more than anything she needed to know that she was safe.

Salome looped her pen about her wrist until the skyline of her city dominated her forearm. She loved her home and hoped the distance wasn’t too great for her mate to traverse. Her pen traced and moved across her skin until the skyline narrowed to a singular image on her hand, a peace sign. Maybe she hoped his mind would begin to turn and he’d connect the meaning of her name to her actual moniker. There had to be countless Salomes in Oakland, so she’d dole out bits of her identity until she was ready to bring him directly to her doorstep.

***

Erik sat on the edge of the tub flexing his hand. It was like if he squeezed it hard enough he could forget the symbol etched into his palm, a representative of something he hadn’t experienced in longer than he cared to remember. Peace. He racked his brain trying to figure out the significance. Was it a hope for him? For the person on the other side? A sign of something else?

He pressed his eyes closed for the briefest of moments before searching his arm again. There had to be something else. Anything that would lead him where he needed to be. He studied the skyline again, his gaze trying to discern the buildings and map them out by memory. He knew more about the city than most, knew the back alleys and corners for hiding just as much as the open streets and tourist traps. Something about the silhouette of the buildings gnawed at him. Erik couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he’d figure it out sooner than later. Reaching onto the counter, he gathered his phone into his hands. He snapped pictures of the patterns, determined that when they finally disappeared he’d have something to remember them by.

Making his way to his bedroom, Erik sighed heavily at the neat pile of items organized on his bed. Work called him tonight and, as it was always with work, he knew what came after. He was angry with himself for even having second thoughts about what he needed to do. It was tradition.It kept him grounded in the reality that he was on the right path. Erik had a mission, one that love was never a part of, and he intended to see it through to the end. Pulling the black henley over his head, Erik’s fingers glanced over the reminders on death decorating his skin. He knew there would be another before the end of the night, one he’d have to make without care of consequence or pain.

***

Salome cried out into the darkness. Her body curled into itself and she stifled a scream into her pillow. Her mind was telling her not to cry, but her bodyknew the pain coursing through her stomach was very real. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be angry. She’d made her presence known and yet the scars hadn’t stopped. Salome pressed a hand to the fire lighting her skin and rocked as she pushed breaths between her teeth. She told herself that she could make it through the next few minutes. It never lasted long, but for those moments the world stopped and her mind short circuited. Salome gripped the sheets with her free hand, bearing down against the pain until it finally ebbed away. She sobbed into the evening, thoughts of maps and connections now tattered and unsure.


	3. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Don’t Judge Me by Janelle Monae, Stronger by Raveena, and You by Snoh Aalegra

Salome’s eyes were still heavy when they finally opened. Pain, both physical and emotional, had rocked her to sleep the night before and when she looked into the mirror another portion of her skin was no longer her own. Anger had crashed down around her. It was an emotion she rarely let herself feel because it wasn’t productive. What would she gain from expending that kind of energy on things and people who wouldn’t be swayed by her pain or her inconvenience? But this anger was hard to control in ways that left her unable to function. The day had started with her sulking around her home, a hand pressed to the phantom pain still ghosting through her torso. The ache had ebbed to a dull weight she was still carrying as she forced herself to eat something to take the edge off of the weakness starting to set in. Salome couldn’t be quite sure, however, if the pain was actually there or if it was the final vestiges of anger still clinging to the edges of her consciousness. 

What she could remember of her slumber was the outline of a dream. She could recall a man standing at the edge of a room, his back to her and his head hung low. Something in her had wanted to call out to him because more than anything the urge to comfort him had been burned into her chest. Salome could remember trying to make her way across the space to him, but with each step he seemed to wander farther and farther away. Before long she’d given up and it felt as if her heart was breaking. But the pain she’d felt in the real world had come back in force and the dream had ended with her kneeled in darkness crying, the shadow of the man finally looming over her with blankness where his face should have been. 

Salome pulled a black t-shirt over her head, shimmied a pair of leggings over her thighs, and pressed her feet into a pair of sneakers. A quick twist of her wrists looped a headwrap around the hair she’d forgotten to secure the night before and then she was out the door towards her shop. Plans of maps and love were going to take a backseat to her actual life no matter if the burning beneath her skin wanted her to scrawl a message to let the beast on the other side know just how much she was hurting. 

She hummed along with something on the radio as she drove the blocks to the one place she knew she was safe and where she was in total control. Golden Goddess Tattoos and Piercings was her pride and joy. It had taken blood, sweat, tears, and every dime she had to launch it and now five years later she was in demand in ways she never expected. The bright buzz of the fluorescent lights melded into her low singing as she brought the shop to life for the day. Her first appointments weren’t scheduled until early afternoon so she had plenty of time to prep and settle her nerves. Permanently marking the skin of others was something never to be taken lightly. Salome bristled at the memory of the scars etched into her body. Her curiosity fired to life and she pulled her laptop from her desk. If she was going to live with a body that wasn’t fully hers, she wanted to know exactly what was turning her into a walking canvas not of her own design.

***  
The sign still hadn’t come. Erik watched the clock on his phone flip from 11:59pm to 12:00am. The entire day he’d been distracted by his skin. No blue ink. No message. And he was angry. Angry and confused. How dare the mysterious writer etch into his skin only to stop when he’d started to let down his guard by any fraction. The dark of his apartment washing over him, Erik was planted heavily into an easy chair positioned for a breathtaking view of the city. At the moment he was looking, but not really seeing anything. The insistent blink of the city lights were usually a comfort, but as night had rolled over into morning it had meant nothing. He’d tried concentrating on the radio tower in the distance, timing the lights and trying to sync his breathing with them. It hadn’t worked and every few seconds he’d glanced down at his arm to see if anything had changed. He let out a growl as he caught himself doing it once again. 

Last night’s job had gone as planned. In and out with death left in his wake. His target had been an easy enough kill with very little fight and minimal mess to clean up. The funds were already in his bank account by the time he’d exited the building. Secured text messages with proof of completion and wire transfers made things neat and orderly as Erik preferred. He didn’t want the mess or face to face bullshit of secret meetings and dirty money in too small envelopes. He’d made his way back to his place under cover of night, blending into the mass of people enjoying company, food, and spirts in a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood. He sometimes abhorred living there, but at least he knew the cops there were more likely to be trying to keep people like him out than randomly stopping black people in the places he’d prefer to live. Keeping a low profile was what had kept him alive this long and it would continue to until it was time to move on to something new.  
It wasn’t until he was standing under the spray of the shower once again, the soap and water cascading down his torso, that Erik’s mind finally made a connection that jolted him. He pressed a palm to his ribcage and felt the soft raise of skin and scar as a curse spilled from his lips low and long. Blue ink easily washed away was no comparison to ritual scarification.

Erik started to count the markings absently before shame stopped him. He was now fully aware that somewhere in the city the pain and remembrance he’d mapped across his own body was reflected in a person who had no choice in what she now carried for a lifetime. Erik braced his back against the slate tiles of the shower and cursed again. He felt nauseous. He was a killer. He was detached. He was many things, but hurting the innocent was something he’d never prided himself on. Collateral damage came with the territory. It came with war and it came with mercenary work, but the one bit of pride he did have about what he did was that no one was harmed unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Erik stood there until his skin was cooled and the water had turned cold. He could scrawl his own message, but what would it say? Sorry I fucked up your life? I apologize I cut into your body without warning more times than I want to count? Shame wouldn’t let him do that. Discipline and ritual told him that he needed to find another way to memorialize his sins lest he start a new set that somehow seemed crueler than ending lives.  
***

Salome didn’t know if her silence would even matter to her mate, but she’d struggled with her anger all day and as night had fallen it was the only way she could think to get her point across without laying out a line of curses on her skin. Her presence was a gift and taking it away seemed like the only power she had in the moment. She couldn’t stop the scars from appearing nor could she fully understand the point of them. She’d read page after page between clients and was still hard pressed to come to a reason it was necessary in the heart of Oakland. What kind of person would willingly go through that type of pain time and again? What kind of self-torture was this? It made Salome afraid to find out, but the dream wouldn’t leave her. 

What if he needed help? A person to anchor him to the world and let him know softness was possible? She let herself sink momentarily into the idea of binding herself to someone and building a future. It all seemed good, like some sort of fairytale, until the reality of her very real situation settled in around her. There she was, a steward of others’ paths to their love, with a body full of scars placed there by a person who was damaging his own body with nothing more than a steady hand and reasons she was sure she’d never understand even if told. 

Salome wiped down the final table in the shop and set the autoclave to its night cycle before flipping the lights and heading into the darkness of the empty block. The final lock secured into place with a sturdy click and she turned directly into the matte black terror of a gun. She let out a truncated shriek before the world flipped and she found herself sprawled on the concrete, her knees and palms bloodied and scraped. She watched the man towering above her shake her bag and free the bank envelope with the day’s profits. Salome averted her eyes, knowing seeing his face was an open invitation for those eyes to be closed permanently. Long after the man had faded back into the quiet of the emptied street, Salome sat in her car trembling and dabbling at the torn skin raw and bleeding.  
***  
Erik jolted from his thoughts at the sharpness of pain shooting through his hands and legs. He knew well the sting and burn of skin being torn away and it set him into a panic. Something had happened to her and he was powerless to do anything about it. Without thought he knew shame needed to take a back seat to making sure she was okay. Erik made a direct line for the kitchen, sifting through his junk drawer until he found a pen. He hovered the nib over his skin trying to figure out what to say. The throb of pain was like a pulse. It was distracting and it made him terrified because he knew it was a fraction of what he’d caused. He scrawled one word and hoped he received an answer. 

_Location._


	4. Day Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Summer by Celeste and Jeshi, Something New by SiR, and 11:59 by Blaquestone

Erik was a patient man. He’d perfected the art of laying in wait for things to happen, for the perfect opportunity to present itself so the task at hand could be completed as quickly and smoothly as possible. He’d waited in cities and in the countryside. He’d sat completely still at home and abroad, but nothing had prepared him for standing in his kitchen staring at his arm like a madman for any sign from a woman he’d never met. A woman he’d been playing skin tag with for only a few days. He leaned against the island, his foot tapping some rhythm that he couldn’t get out of his head, willing his nerves to settle. The pain had dulled to an ache, but it was still there. It was still reminding him of all he’d done. 

A single swipe of color caught Erik’s attention then another arcing in to form the letter G. And then endless moments before finally the cursive bloomed on his skin. _Golden Goddess Tattoos_. Erik swept the keys from the foyer table at the front door while typing the name into his phone’s map and shooting his body towards the parking garage without a second thought. He settled into the leather seat and tapped the center console knowing a compact pistol was layered in a deeply hidden secret compartment. 

He pushed the limits of sane driving, grateful that traffic was light for that time of night. His stomach was heavy. Worry attacked him on two fronts. He’d have to look into the face of the woman he’d hurt and there was the potential he’d have to kill right before her eyes. That knowledge was rooted deeply in his gut. It worried him, but he also felt an odd calm knowing that if protecting what belonged to him called for it then there was no stopping him. His. Erik had never claimed anyone. Life and circumstance had made that a remote possibility, but there was a burning beneath his skin that told him that was changing. 

Erik swung the classic Mustang onto the darkened block, the light of the tattoo shop like a beacon drawing him in. _Moth to flame_ , he mused as he exited the car and came to a halt at the front door. In the far distance, Erik could make out the silhouette of a woman walking slowly back towards the main room. She limped slightly; her head bowed to inspect her hands. She moved slowly until she came to a pause under the lights. Something in Erik clicked to life when her head rose, their eyes collided, and she broke into a weary smile. 

***  
Salome had vacillated about revealing her location, but the fear she felt each time she closed her eyes in the quietness of her car had forced her to make a decision. It had taken the rattle of a motorcycle tooling up the block to scare her enough to move back into the shop and lock the door behind her. She dabbed at the scrapes and cuts with antiseptic until nerves had taken over and she’d found herself sucking in shaky breaths to calm herself. She’d never seen a gun so closely and certainly never had one pointed so tightly in her space that she swore that she could see to the far reaches of the barrel.

She wouldn’t lie to herself and hide the fact that she had concluded her mate was tough enough to torture himself so he could surely protect her from a danger that had slipped back into the night. This was not how she’d wanted to reveal herself, but the solidness of another human being was what she wanted and needed in the moment. So she’d scrawled the name of her shop onto her arm and waited for him to arrive. 

Time moved like molasses. The weight of the day was starting to settle onto her shoulders when she looked up and locked eyes with a mass of man, shaking a smattering of dark locs from his eyes. Salome’s breath caught. Her stomach clenched. And then something moved her like a magnet towards the door until the echoing click of the lock disengaging was replaced by the sound of his boots against the floor. He regarded her for a moment, his eyes moving over the corners of the room as if he was making sure they were alone. When his arms opened, Salome moved by instinct into them and let the heavily muscled arms cocoon her. 

He was solid in a way that put Salome instantly at ease. She sank into his arms, uncaring that a fresh round of tears was dampening the navy shirt stretched across a massive chest that was warm and oddly inviting. He rocked her, making small noises and telling her she was safe. She believed it. She had no evidence that it was true, but something in her knew that what he said he meant and no harm would come to her. Salome let herself concentrate on the sweep of his hand up and down her spine. Doing so let her even her breathing until finally she felt solid enough to let him go. 

Taking a step back, Salome regarded him with curiosity. This was him? The one who’d been hurting himself and sweeping her up into the riptide of that destruction. She had to admit he was beautiful, but she also knew he was dangerous. There was a sadness and a darkness in his eyes she only caught a glimpse of before he fell to his knees before her. 

***  
Erik wanted to shift his eyes from the scars on Salome’s torso to her own tear-filled gaze, but he couldn’t. He could only continue to let his fingers float over the identical markings, the way they raised from her skin like she’d placed them there herself. Something in his gut clenched in shame, maybe even a bit of pride if he was being honest. He was kneeling before her in wonder with his hands curled on the dual sides of her waist. He could feel the warmth of her beneath his fingers, but she still didn’t seem real. Erik knew that her hands were balled at her sides and he could feel the tremble of her breath pulsing from her lungs. 

He'd intended to clean the ragged skin on her knees but his hands found their way towards the flash of belly peeking from beneath her shirt. He could make out the markings plain as day. The blood dotting her ripped leggings was pushed from his mind in an instant. 

He wanted to ask questions. How long ago had the scars started? Were they truly identical to his? Was she the one really responsible for the shadow of letters and maps on his skin, the ghosts he’d tried in vain to ignore to make himself distant from the possibility of someone actually existing for him? 

“You were leading me here?” His own voice sounded foreign to him. “Wanted me to find you?”

He felt her nod, then breathed in relief as she sank to her knees with him. She grimaced at the hardwood meeting her wounds. Her hands found his jaw. She was looking at him with softness in her eyes. Softness he didn’t deserve. Erik wanted to hide. Those gazes were never for him. He was used to fear when people looked at him. Perhaps even indifference. Never love and most certainly never kindness. He closed his eyes when the sweep of her fingers mapped the angles and planes of his face. It felt right, like something that had been happening forever. She felt familiar. Like history and future all wrapped into one. 

Erik would have stayed in that exact moment forever had the honey of her voice not broken the silence. 

“I wanted to be sure.” There was insecurity in her voice that he never wanted to hear again. “Things don’t always work out despite what people believe.” 

He locked eyes with her at last, saw a bit of himself swirling within them. She didn’t look away and for that Erik was glad. He watched her hand drift from her belly to his. Her palm flattened against his skin.

“Tell me about the scars.”   
***

Salome felt the shift in his energy. She caught the hardening of his eyes and felt colder when he moved away from her. Something in him had closed and the world was dimmer because of it. It had been a simple question, one that would fill in the shadows of why her skin was no longer her own. But just maybe that story wasn’t for her. Not now, at least. He’d stalked to the other side of the room and taken a perch on the edge of one of the tattoo beds. He ran a hand over his face and let his shoulders drop. He took a moment to study his hands. Salome was worried he would never speak. 

“Everything’s a ritual, you know? First you have to prep the skin, make sure it’s clean as you can get it. The blade’s important, too. The sharper the better. Medical grade is best.” 

His foot tapped nervously on the hardwood floor beneath his boots. The bounce of his legs shook his torso and Salome felt herself wanting to reach out and touch him. She wanted to soothe him, but knew it was not the time. He needed to tell his story. 

“The first cut was the worse. That anticipation was a bitch. But once you get past that one…” 

His voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders. “Then you need to let the smoke in. Weed, incense, candles, paper, fire. Whatever’s on hand depending on where I am.” 

Salome moved quietly to sit beside him. He didn’t move away and something in her relaxed. Something in her shifted. 

“Packing ‘em with oil and clay can be a pain in the ass. Really needs two people…” There was a measure of silence. “But yea…they heal up and life goes on.” 

“Why?” The question was loaded and it sat between them for long moments before he finally spoke. 

“Because I’m a killer and I need to remember what I’ve done.”


	5. Day Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Too Much by Sampha and Twice by Little Dragon

Salome saw the fear and shame in his eyes, but she was frightened because she couldn’t be sure it was genuine. Terrified was more accurate. He’d made his confession in such a monotone voice that it seemed as if he was detached from not only her but the world. She waited to hear some inflection that would tell her that he felt remorse. Perhaps if she saw the swipe of his hand across his eyes or the shudder of his breath leaving his body, it would make her feel as if there was a measure of humanness there. Salome didn’t expect tears, but she wanted to see something. Anything. 

“This is when you leave, right? Too much to handle,” Erik scoffed as he pushed his body from the table and moved as far from Salome as the room allowed. 

“I don’t know what happens. I’m not going to lie to you.” 

Salome didn’t move. She stayed rooted in place. A beam of headlights broke the darkness outside the large shop windows and made everything bright for a small measure of time. She swung her feet as she sat, trying to ease the ache in her knees. Salome blew onto her palms and hoped the sweep of air over them would ease the burn and sting. 

“Ain’t this soulmate shit supposed to work out?” he questioned and strolled towards one of the rolling tattoo cabinets. 

He rooted around for a moment before slamming the drawer closed. The sound of metal on metal echoed in the quietness. He turned towards Salome and made his way back to his original seat. Erik piled the small handful of items on the cushion next to her, using her thigh as a way to stop them from rolling off the vinyl surface. He moved to his knees once more, putting himself at eye level with the tattered leggings splayed open by the concrete outside. He examined the skin with a hum and reached up to pull a pair of scissors into his grip. Erik went to work cutting away the fabric below Salome’s knees, freeing both from their confines. 

“Sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve seen it. Mates don’t always end up together. Life still has choices, you know? Bad people still exist even if they belong to someone. Sometimes it isn’t safe.”

She watched him pause and squeeze the bottle of cleanser in his hand. The almost invisible flare of his nostrils let Salome know she’d struck a nerve. 

“Bad is relative. People do what they have to in order survive.”

“It’s not. Like I said, we have all choices.” For her it was simple. She knew for him it wasn’t.

He grunted and went silent, but Salome knew he was biting his tongue. Erik on his knees gave her the perfect view of him. She found herself wanting to touch the tousled locs atop his head, was intrigued by the flash of gold when he spoke or licked his lips, and she could see just how weary he was even if he was trying to hide it. 

“I’m Salome.” It seemed silly she hadn’t said it before.

“Erik.” He was back to monotone. 

He ignored her as he cleaned the dirt and blood off of her skin and slathered ointment over the cuts. When Erik was done he layered large bandages on both knees and rose, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork. The grasp of his fingers on hers made Salome want to melt into him, but she knew better. He wasn’t looking at her. He was performing a task and that was it. Erik repeated his actions and before long Salome’s palms were clean and glistening with balm.

“Keep ‘em clean. Change the bandages on your knees the day after tomorrow. Probably take about a week to heal up.” 

Salome watched him clean up his mess and wash his hands in the sink. 

“You good?” he mumbled to her, his eyes focused on some of the flash art on the wall. 

“Yea…I…” 

“It’s all good. Shit doesn’t always work out, does it?”

His chuckle was dry as he made his way towards the door. The jangle of the bell above the threshold rang out as it opened. “Make sure you lock up.”

And like that, he was gone.   
***  
Erik would not admit that he was hurt. Until a few days ago he could have given a fuck if a woman wanted him or not. It wouldn’t have mattered what she thought of him. He wasn’t hurt. He was pissed off at her assuming that life was simple. Life _was_ about choices. He knew that well. His whole life had been shaped by the choices of others and look where he was. Erik was fighting himself out of the riptide of his past and diving headfirst into a whole other set of problems. 

What did she know about struggle and sacrifice? She looked soft. Couldn’t even hold her own against… Erik’s mind ground to a halt. He hadn’t even asked her what happened. All he knew was that she’d been hurt. By stranger or friend he didn’t know. Maybe she was just clumsy. What he did know was that she’d sunken into his arms as soon as they opened and her eyes had fear just below the surface. Something, someone, had hurt her. But it wasn’t important now. Bad people don’t deserve love. Erik chuckled. That wasn’t new. He’d learned that long ago. It’s why blue ink on brown skin meant nothing. It was all an illusion. 

Erik drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel of his car. He should have pulled off the block long ago, but he was stubborn and quite frankly he was stupid. Salome’s shop was still glowing from the inside, a beacon on the emptied street. Stupidity had him pushing aside his earlier thoughts and waiting for the lights to click off one by one and for her to emerge onto the street. She looked timid and bowed walking briskly to a crossover SUV parked a few hundred feet away. The slump of her shoulders angered Erik. The look of brokenness didn’t sit well with him nor did the fold of her body over the steering wheel before she finally raised her head, wiped her cheeks, and drove away. 

By the time Erik reached his home, his anger had simmered down to disappointment. More than anything, he was honest with himself so he decided to stop telling himself half-truths. Salome had hurt him, but that was only because he’d let down his guard enough to be curious. Erik quieted the engine of his car and exited into the parking garage. His footsteps echoed, but were soon joined by the laughter of a couple swaying towards their car. The man nodded in Erik’s direction and he forced himself to do the same. In his gut, the sight of them touching and enjoying each other’s’ company irritated him. It was all so dumb. Getting attached to someone meant you had to take their wants and needs into consideration. It meant you couldn’t come and go as you pleased. It meant there was the potential the rug could be snatched from under you. It meant that the world had a way to hurt you. In Erik’s line of work that was deadly.

_Bad people don’t get love._

He needed to remember that. Still, he couldn’t forget how good she’d smelled or how even marked and marred her skin had been smooth and glowing. Erik let out a frustrated grunt as he waited for the elevator to make its descent. He needed something to take his mind off of her. He didn’t want thoughts of how she’d felt pressed into his arms. Recalling the shift he felt the moment he laid eyes on her was a distraction he could not afford. He would not continue to lie to himself that he’d spent a large portion of his drive home fantasizing about what her lips would feel like beneath his. Lying to himself wouldn’t erase anything he was feeling. All that he would allow himself to hold onto was that he could no longer scar himself. That wasn’t fair to her, detached soulmate or not. 

Erik tossed his keys onto the foyer table and took his same seat overlooking the city. The night had cycled back to where it began. Erik steadied his eyes towards the horizon, refusing to give in to the urge to check his skin. It didn’t matter now. He pulled his sleeves down over his forearms until there was no skin left to see.   
***  
Morning wasn’t kind to Salome. This time it wasn’t the soul searing pain of a new scar. Instead it was an ache that ebbed just below her collarbone. It was a nagging sensation that had taken hold when she’d seen the crack in Erik’s spirit. Salome was far from destructive. She prided herself on connecting and shaping the worlds she came in contact with. But destruction was what was weighing on her now. She felt as if she’d added to a pile of misery already sitting on Erik’s shoulders. The jangle of the bell had reverberated through her ears long after he’d left her standing alone in the legacy she thought her greatest achievement. She remembered trying to recall the timbre of his voice as they’d spoken and not the words that eventually broken into silence. 

Salome had never taken into consideration what would happen if her mate was someone she couldn’t handle. She’d given no thought to what she would do if he was a killer, a liar, or a scammer. All she saw was the possibility of love. Erik frightened her for dual reasons. What did it say about her that her mate was a man who had killed enough to decorate his body with death? Killings that she didn’t know the meanings of and frankly did not want to know. And what did it say about her that her first instinct was to comfort him? How could reconcile that? She didn’t know, but she knew at a minimum she needed to make amends. Salome tapped the pen on the breakfast table, chewing her bottom lip trying to decide what to write. The thump of pain in her hand came as a reminder of Erik’s tenderness in cleaning her wounds the night before. She felt ashamed she hadn’t even said thank you. 

She hovered the pen over her skin for what seemed like forever before launching the simplest design she’d even placed to skin. _I’m sorry_. Salome waited, pacing the length of her apartment for hours, until she felt her skin hum to life. A smile broke across her face before she could stop herself. Her eyes found her arm anxious to see his response and start the day anew. Salome blinked back tears at the sight. A single line through her message. ~~I’m sorry.~~


	6. Day Five and then some...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Listen by J*DaVeY

He wished she wouldn’t keep doing the same thing in the same order each day. Erik had convinced himself to only check in on Salome at the end of each night. He wouldn’t allow himself to drive by the shop during the day. That would be too much. He needed the peace of mind that she made it safely into her car and on her way home before he drove in the opposite direction to his place. He’d nearly convinced himself that he was only making sure that no one had a grudge against her. He still didn’t know what had happened, but logic told him that it wasn’t clumsiness as he’d tried to believe. He wanted to, though. That would have set his heart back at rest.

A week of his checks told him a few things. One was that Salome was good at what she did. The portion of the lobby he could see through the plate glass windows was nearly always bustling with duos and trios of customers with the occasional loner. The last clients seemed to be scheduled within the last two hours and he could see them pouring over flash art and design books or huddled next to Salome as she customized exactly what they needed and wanted. He could pick up hints of her smile and found himself more than once with one of his own as she rose on her toes to gather supplies from shelves slightly above her reach. He’d watched her stooped over her drafting table wholly focused on the page in front of her. And he felt an odd sense of relief when a few stray swipes of ink appeared on his fingers. But he’d been saddened by the sight of her sighing heavily and before he had a chance to appreciate the connection between them she’d wiped her hands clean.

Erik, for as much as he didn’t want to admit it, was still angry with himself for striking through her apology. It was mean, but he’d felt hurt he hadn’t expected when she declared there were bad people in the world. He knew he didn’t always live life the way he was expected to, but in his core Erik knew everything he did was done with honor, pride, and reverence. He wasn’t a crass killer. He was just a man with a job and plan for where those jobs would lead him. It hadn’t mattered what people thought of him, but Salome changed that. He’d wanted to slip into the night and nurse his wounds. When her message had come the next morning he stared at it forever before giving her a taste of his hurt. He’d assumed the next message would come. It hadn’t.

The second thing Erik had learned was that she was a creature of habit. She closed on time, at the same time, each night. Her movements via the windows were like clockwork and right before she left the shop for the night she’d emerge from her office tucking an envelope into her bag. Money, he assumed. An easy target. Predictable and alone.

“I look like a goddamn stalker,” Erik ground out as his thumb drummed against his denim clad thigh.

He knew that tap well. It meant his mind was telling him exactly what he wanted to do, but his body was still trying to catch up. Better yet? It was fighting him. His mind had already exited the darkened interior of his car, crossed the street, and slipped into the Golden Goddess before Salome locked the door for the night. His body, however, was pressing itself deeper into the bucket seat and doing everything in its power to stay there. Between the insistent tap of his thumb, the death grip on the steering wheel, and his shredded bottom lip, Erik knew what he wanted. Making himself accept that and act upon it was another story.

He was frustrated with himself. Normal him would have identified the target, come up with a game plan, and executed it long ago. This him? This him was acting like all out bitch on more than one level. Erik threw one more glace out of the window of the car and let out a sound that was equal parts growl and sigh. It fit his mood well. Longing, but angry about it. He hadn’t slept right nor had he had any real respite since he’d left Salome standing in the middle of the shop looking like the world have come crashing down around her.

“Fuck!” Erik nearly jumped out of his seat while reaching for the button to the secret compartment in the arm rest.

The sight of Salome, bent at the waist with her face nearly pressed to the glass, startled him. She raised a hand in greeting then pointed at the door. Erik reached over to pull the lock with the weight of the past week melting away as Salome opened it and slid in beside him.

***

He smelled so damn good. That was Salome’s first thought. It was some mixture of spice, citrus, and musk and it was making her a little weak in the knees. Thankfully, she was sinking into soft leather so falling flat on her face wasn’t a possibility. She let the seat envelop her and cast furtive glances about the cabin, picking up the burled wood accents and gold trimmings instead of traditional chrome. Something in her knew that this was exactly his style here and everywhere else in his life.

“Nice car,” she fumbled. “I pegged you for an SUV type of guy.

She was nervous. Not just because he was so close, but because something in her chest had started stirring the moment she’d breathed the same air as him. It was as if her body vibrated, elevated, in a way that made the world seem a bit clearer. She’d never felt it before and it was a like a drug. It took all she had to stop herself from touching him.

Erik grunted. “You don’t even know me.” His glare was hard and it made Salome want to look away. “Bad guys drive big toys? That’s what you think?”

“No. Assholes do.” She held his stare. “I came out here to say stop fucking stalking me, but I was going to be nice about it. Too late now.” Her words trailed off in an angry mutter.

The wry laugh that burst forth from his lips at any other time would have made Salome swoon, but at the present moment it just pissed her off even more.

“This is funny? You’ve been parked out here for a week. Two hours before closing in a blacked out Mustang. Do you think you’re invisible?”

He mumbled something under his breath. Salome strained to hear him and leaned closer. She was feeling a bit aggressive so she cupped her hand around her ear.

“Speak up, Mr. Bad Guy.”

The icy glare Erik darted towards her made Salome feel as if she was about to end up another scar. This time it was Erik who leaned closer until they were nearly face to face. He cocked his head to one side as a clear sign of challenge. Salome mimicked his actions. She wasn’t a punk. Nice and easily intimidated were two different things. She’d been through enough to know real danger when she saw it and in this moment, Erik was anything but that. She could see it in his eyes. His jaw may have been set in stone, but his eyes told her that he was mapping her face and failing at hiding it.

“I said I was trying to make sure your predictable ass was okay. Excuse the fuck out of me.”

Salome studied him for a moment. “I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” He threw a sweeping gesture towards her knees. “The blood said you can’t.”

“Well it’s not every day I have a gun shoved in my face.”

For as tough as she was being, Salome knew she’d failed to keep the waver out of her voice. She leaned away from Erik and let the seat cocoon her again. She could feel his stare boring into the side of her face and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. If she looked at him, she knew she would cry. Crying in front of this jackass was not an option.

“Gun?” His voice now matched the set of his jaw. Salome picked up the danger that had been missing earlier.

“Bad guy with a gun robbed me that night,” she quipped, trying to lighten the load on her shoulders and the mood in the car. “I came out and when I turned around it was in my face and next thing you know I was on the ground. He took the night’s profits and ran.”

The low curse echoed in the car.

“I thought you were clumsy.” It was dead pan and infuriating.

Salome whipped her head towards him. She held out a hand and splayed her palm. “I have some of the steadiest hands in this city. I’m far from clumsy.”

She watched Erik staring at her hand trying to pick up a tremor. Everything in the car was heavy, like the sky was about to burst with rain, for what seemed like forever. Erik’s fingers across the top of her hand made Salome shiver. He smirked and gathered it into his.

“You’re shaking now,” he said in victory.

“So are you.”

Erik tugged Salome from the comfort of her seat until she met his body hovering over the center console. He regarded her for a moment. Again, Salome felt as if he was mapping her. Or maybe trying to memorize her. What she did know was that he looked conflicted. Like he wanted something but knew better than to touch it. Salome wasn’t confident enough to believe it was her. But she wished it was.

***

Erik was in trouble. He should have never touched her hand because if he hadn’t he wouldn’t have another memory of just how soft her skin was nor the desire to feel all of it against his own flesh. But seeing the slender fingers extended in front of him had been too much of a temptation. Sure, part of it was wanting to call her bluff and rattle her, but another part of him wanted to touch her as comfort. To ease that fear that had crept into her eyes and break the shell he saw her crawl into after her confession of the robbery.

He didn’t like the dip in her spirit. Something, deep and primal, settled into him seeing her that way. He wanted to protect her. The idea seemed right and it scared him. He had never been responsible for anyone else. He didn’t know what that meant. But instinct is hard to overcome. He’d spent a week drawn to her each night, waiting outside just to make sure she was okay. And Erik knew had she not shown up at the passenger side, he would have continued to do so for Bast knows how long. They’d barely spoken and he’d altered the course his routine for her. Night runs now came before dawn so that he could be at the shop before the sun started to set. He’d been so focused on her safety that he hadn’t even bothered to be stealth with his surveillance. He had only one concern.

Erik could feel the pulse thudding in Salome’s wrist. He could hear the tiny siphons of air she pulled in through slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss her. Mind and body started war anew. Erik’s mind was already seconds ahead with his tongue teasing her bottom lip, tasting to see if it was as sweet as he’d imagined. Mind was already pulling that lip into his mouth and suckling it before giving the same attention to the top. It was kissing her until she was weak and pliant in his hands. Until he could pull her across the cabin and into his lap just so she would be as close as the space would allow. But Erik’s body was still holding onto her hand, eyes locked with hers awaiting permission. The gentle tug of his wrist was the permission he needed. Mind and body caught up with one another, the quietness now filled with breath and the sound of leather yielding to body weight and pleasure trying to escape via moan and sigh.

She tasted just as Erik imagined and that was dangerous. Because even as her body sank into his, he was already thinking of how dangerous her in his world would be. That his routine would now be her protection and her safety. That his plans now changed in order to make sure his sins were not visited upon her. But Erik wanted her. More than anything in his memory, he wanted her. It was selfish and it was wrong, but he didn’t care. His entire life he’d only lived the life he’d been given, never the one he wanted nor the one he thought he deserved. He deserved Salome and he intended to have her.


	7. Day Six and then some...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Fire We Make by Alicia Keys, As of Late by Insightful, Blood Sport ’15 by Raleigh Ritchie, and You Got Me by The Roots

The hard press of the steering wheel against the small of her back lasted only a second. Its pressure was only a momentary distraction from Erik’s insistent hands pulling the hem of her shirt up and over her head. The chill of evening flushed Salome’s skin, but was quickly replaced with fever from the tug of his hands in her hair pulling her back to his mouth. There was something nearly unhinged in the meeting of their tongues, like they’d been kept from each other far too long and were starved of the one thing they needed most. It didn’t matter just how deeply Erik plunged into her, Salome felt like it wasn’t enough. She wanted the sweetness of his tongue and the minty breath that mingled between them in the scarce spans of time they came up for air. More repeated like a prayer in Salome’s mind until her brain short-circuited from the sweep of hands cascading down her spine and settling at the splay of her hips. Those hands had seen a lifetime of trouble and lonely. 

Salome wanted to arch into Erik, to force him to grip her tightly so she’d be anchored to his bulk and the pleasure it promised. She could feel the tension in his body. The war of wanting to sink into her and push her away at the same time. It was a war she was familiar with. Salome cradled his face, the scratch of his beard creating yet another new sensation, and peppered his lips with kisses. His eyes opened and searched her gaze. There was a softening that made something in her want to lay the world at his feet and defend the ray of light she could see in his depths. Salome let her hands drop from his face and glide down his chest, pushing the dark denim jacket from his shoulders and letting the bright white of his t-shirt glow in the darkness. The path wasn’t a smooth one, interrupted by the rise of death littering both of their bodies, but it was all she wanted in the moment. But what Salome wanted more than that was the feel of scar against scar.  
***

Erik couldn’t be quite sure why Salome’s energy had changed, but he liked it. It was darker, more confident, and it made his head swim. She was pressing the warmth of her core into his lap, moving lazily like a cat and damn near purring. Erik could feel the rumble of her. It wasn’t quite words, not yet a moan. What he knew was that he wanted to pull more of those sounds from her by any means he could.

When she cradled his face that same kindness he’d seen the first night was back. Again, it seemed as if she was seeing him as no one else ever had. Like he was worthy of something good and solid in his life. All that from a look, he thought. But he knew it to be true even if he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t. For the time being he let himself sink into it and drown in the weight of her in his lap. It felt like she belonged there. She did belong there. He’d wholly believe it one day, but for now he’d hold onto as much of the feeling as he could. 

A pass of his hand shifted a deep purple bra strap from her Salome’s shoulder and shortly after his lips found the tiny indentation left behind. He suckled and laved at it until it rose to meet the rest of her flesh. Erik ventured to the next strap, repeating his actions until the slope of Salome’s body was coming fully into view. He wanted her, insistently, but this was not the place. He tried to tuck himself back in, but he needed one more taste. Just a small one to satiate himself until he could have her properly. He let loose a feral noise from his throat and belted his arms around her waist. She folded into him, the heat of her breathing pulsing against her neck until he brought her back to be devoured once more. 

“You want this? Me?” He was almost afraid to ask. 

Salome moaned into his mouth before breaking the contact. “Every bit. You belong to me.”

A world opened inside of Erik, the tiniest bit of light escaping until he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He didn’t want to, but before he knew it, Salome’s forehead was pressed to his and she was beaming at him in return.  
***

The unflinching stare between the two of them did not break as Salome repeated Erik’s actions and freed him from the fabric separating the markings that connected them. The creak of the leather beneath their bodies bounced between the pulls of air finding their ways from between Salome’s lips. It was becoming more and more difficult to concentrate because of the rough and smooth of Erik’s tongue now tracing the valley between her breasts and making a path towards her rapidly beating heart. The wail of sirens rushing towards a destination unknown finally broke the thickness in the car. 

When Erik finally pulled back from her, his face looked like nothing Salome had ever seen. She’d noted conflict in her own face many mornings, but she also knew the haze of desire coating every bit of his features. From the set and twitch of his jaw, she knew just as much as he wanted her, he was also fighting it. She knew why even if he hadn’t spoken a word. It was fear of both of what he knew and what could be. For him, life was dark and dangerous and covered in the spirits of those he’d pulled from this earth. Love was by no means easy, but it was an avenue of life he seemed skittish to fully embrace. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe Erik didn’t want to be tied down to a mate and pushing her away for any small transgression was the easiest out he could find. Something in Salome pulled from the haze of his lips on hers. Thinking of him with someone else ate away at her in ways she was not prepared to deal with at the moment. Perhaps later, but for now she just wanted to bask in the hum of her skin and the tingle of her mouth. You don’t always get what you want, though. 

In the small space of time Salome had known Erik she knew that he had a way of shutting down and then peeking out into the world when he was ready. Why else would he have spent the last week staked out in front of her shop just to make sure she was okay instead of just asking face to face or at least via the canvas of his skin?

She suspected it was because he could control the immediate area of his car and not how she would react had he come to her without an apology for his dismissal. An apology that Salome wasn’t entirely sure she needed or wanted. She’d done her own dismissal of him even if it hadn’t been her intention. Erik had confessed the blood on his hands so it only made sense her words had cut him deeply. She had to be honest with herself and admit that 

But in the moment, Salome was breathless. Erik had managed to mold her body to his and steal it away for countless seconds until he pulled her from the car and planted her feet to the pavement just outside the passenger side door. She felt woozy and warm like she’d been baking under the sun all day. She went willingly as he culled her body from behind, the heat of his chest radiating into her back. He walked her slowly towards the shop, his lips pressed into the crux of her shoulder and his breath fanning at the small stretch of skin peeking from the scooped neck of her shirt. Had her skin not been flushed from the press of his body to hers, Salome would have shivered like she was in the dead of winter. 

The block was quiet, or at least the sound of her heart pounding was drowning it out. Coupled with the solidness of Erik curled around her frame, Salome wasn’t able to concentrate on anything else. It was taking all she had to just put one foot in front of the other. She knew what she was walking towards and welcomed it. She wanted to fuse with Erik. No other word would suffice. Salome wanted to intertwine with everything that made him the man now guiding her body into the vestibule of her shop and through the now unlocked door. 

***  
The inky blue of early morning giving way to pink dawn was not hiding what Salome could only describe as a glorious sight. The silhouette of Erik standing near her drafting table was the first thing she saw when she returned to the world. The shadows and dimmed lights played off the deep valley of his spine buffered by muscled shoulders and gleamed between the peaks and pitches of his scars. He looked regal in both stance and energy.

Salome propped herself on one hip and gathered the blanket about her. A small spot warmed in her belly knowing that he’d covered her in slumber. The cushions beneath her were still warm. He hadn’t been up for long, but still Salome knew she’d risen from sleep when he’d moved his heat away from her. The absence of his body had pulled her back to waking. The night hadn’t gone as she’d expected. Her body had been abuzz, waiting to take all of Erik into it. But he’d pulled her down onto the sofa in her office, draping her body across his like a blanket. She tried to ask questions, engage in him conversation, but he’d simply told her that he needed to settle and come to terms with what was now between them. That his life and hers were no longer theirs. That had sobered her and before long she’d fallen asleep to the steady thump of his heartbeat. 

“Good morning,” Salome called softly as not to startle him. She could make out a small sliver of smile in the darkness before it disappeared along with his dimples. “You’re an early riser.”

If she didn’t know better, Salome would assume she was prey by the way Erik moved across the room towards her. Slowly. With determination. Like a man on a mission. The way he moved was hypnotizing. Between the haze of sleep and the room’s darkness, it was like watching a piece of living, breathing art. She tried to concentrate on the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was in complete opposition to the fluttering in hers. The undulation of muscle and the confidence in each of his steps made Salome want to sit up and drink in all of it. The dark denim clinging to his hips did nothing but direct her attention to the thickness of his torso and the arms she’d been sleeping in. But Salome knew his gaze looked dimmed, his earlier passion locked away. Erik folded his body next to hers on the edge of the sofa. His palm reached out to caress her face and Salome leaned into it. He was studying her again. She let her eyes drift closed. His hand was warm and smelled of ink.

“You’re leaving aren’t you,” she said without her eyes opening.

He hummed his answer.

“Should I ask?” This time she looked at him directly without breaking her gaze. When he didn’t reply she bristled. “Yea…I shouldn’t ask.”

Salome pulled herself to sitting and drew her knees to her chest. Erik shifted to allow her space to get comfortable before he spoke. He drew the blanket over her and adjusted it quietly. 

“My jobs are lined up months in advance. Before you ever came along.”

“But you can’t, or is it won’t, stop taking them can you?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know if you want me to be honest. I have a plan. Goals, you know?”

“And that includes blood and destruction?” She couldn’t keep the bite from her voice. It wasn’t anger. Maybe it was fear of what he was doing would one day leave them cleaved, torn apart by death or bondage. “Things can change now.”

The laugh was wry and defeated at the same time. “Nah. Not that simple. You don’t get as deep in as I am and then just walk away. It requires an extrication, distance.”

“Let me help you do that then.” 

“No.” It was a flat and unmovable declaration.  
***

Erik reached for her and felt his heart rip when she flinched. But she remained rooted in place. That buoyed him in a way that let him know she was still with him. It let him know things would be okay. Or at least his heart was telling him it would be. He was learning to trust it. At times all Erik wanted to do was melt back into routine and ritual. Life had been easier then. Even if it was covered in blood and littered with skeletons ground down to dust beneath his feet. That life was predictable. He knew what was expected of him and he knew how to walk away from situations that were too heavy to carry on his journey forward. 

She looked sad for a moment, almost reached for him. “You know there are consequences of not finding your mate? Some natural and some manmade.” 

She let out a chuckle. 

“You know how many people come through that door expecting a miracle? Expecting me to help them find a person never intended for them? Or helping them find a person who doesn’t want to be found? How much anger that causes?” 

Erik flexed his hands until he felt his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He felt anger creeping into his blood that was hard to explain. Too fast, too soon he chastised himself. There was no reason he should feel protective of her, but he did. Erik squeezed until he heard the intake of breath from Salome. He dipped his head in apology.

“Go on.” 

“Being mated doesn’t always mean happiness. It can mean that you are so attached to someone you go a little crazy. All you know it that person sparks something in you, that you want them above anything else in the world.” She took a deep breath. “Sometimes people don’t have the capacity to temper that with the rest of their lives. It’s tunnel vision. That can be dangerous. All we get fed is the best part of mating. Just like the world, it has its dark corners.” 

“Believe me I know those corners.” 

He preferred them because he knew what to expect. Life can’t be snatched from you when you are always waiting on death. 

“Now imagine if someone knew who belonged to you before you did. The power that exists if there’s something they wanted.”

Salome’s head dropped. She batted away a few tears that caught Erik off guard. He wanted to pull her into his chest, but a shake of her dark head held him at bay. 

“So many people want you, Erik. For profit and for death. It terrifies me what could happen to you. We meet and then I lose you?”

This time Erik refused to be held at bay. He moved chest to chest with Salome and lifted her chin until she met his eyes.

“What do you want?”

“You. Whole and alive.”

“And what if pieces of me are missing?”

“Then we find them together.”

Erik wanted to believe that she meant just that. In fact, he knew she did. Life, no matter how much he now wanted his to continue, isn’t fair. Erik knew that just as well as he knew anything. But he’d placate her for as long as he could, keep the monsters at bay, and the rose-colored glasses covering her eyes until he figured out just how to make sure he’d spill no more blood for the sake of currency. Legacy was another story.


	8. Day Seven and then some...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Beautiful Ones by Mary J. Blige In the Morning by Kelis, and Never Felt This Way by Brian McKnight

“Two days, Erik.” 

She held up an equal amount of fingers for emphasis, shoving them towards his face with a jerk. Salome tried to keep both the anger and the shaking out of her voice but she failed. She’d refused to look at him when he showed up on the other side of the shop door. He’d looked lost and relieved in the same turn. The way the heather gray sweater had stretched across his chest and the cling of the weave against his biceps made her swoon just a little. But she’d caught herself before gripping the knob and turning the lock. And she couldn’t lie that there was a weight lifted from her shoulders when she’d peeked from her office to see him behind the glass. 

The last two days had seen her drifting through the hours and trying her best to stop herself from worrying about a man who’d slipped into the early morning towards the lure of money and blood. Salome had studied her skin more than she cared to admit while pretending to wash her hands or adjusting her shirtsleeves. She knew that all she wanted was a sign that he was alive. It hadn’t even mattered to her if he was okay. Alive was enough for her until she could lay eyes on him again. She was thankful there hadn’t been a scar or a bruise or a cut appearing during her wait. That gave her at least a little bit of comfort as she tossed and turned on her office sofa, the place she’d bedded down because the fabric still smelled of him. 

And certainly, if something had happened to him she would know. Salome wasn’t fully versed in what happened to mates if the other happened to die. But she’d feel something, right? So, she’d clung to that until the solid rap of knuckles against the glass and wood had roused her from a night of fitful artmaking. 

“I shouldn’t have let you in,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked back towards the drafting table she’d been laboring over. 

She heard the solid thump of his boots on the wood behind her, his footsteps following her into the recesses of the darkened shop. The heat of his presence was helping her to calm down. Mating had its advantages she supposed. When Erik was near she felt more solid, protected and protective. There was balance she’d never known. That initial meeting had shifted everything. 

“I’m sorry.” The weariness in his voice shone through. Exhaustion laced the edges of the words. “Things took a bit longer than expected.”

He took a seat on the sofa, his body sinking heavily into the cushions as his arms spanned the back. He let his head lull backwards and Salome studied the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and breathed deeply. She moved closer and stood in the center of his widely braced legs, unsure of why she needed his attention. He reached for her without lifting his head, his fingertips grazing the meat of her thighs. She stood firm and made no effort to move into his lap.

“Come here,” he rasped as his fingers danced against her jogger clad legs.

When she didn’t move, Erik lifted his head and bore a hard stare into her. Salome could read the need in them along with the exhaustion. He swept one long leg forward and hooked it behind her ankle, tripping her enough to make her tumble forward. He caught her easily and moved to cradle her into his waiting arms. 

“You don’t listen.” He held her tightly and closed his eyes again. 

Salome balked. Her eyes widened at his casualness. Here he was after two days pretending like he owed her nothing but the feel of their bodies readjusting to each other. But her body wouldn’t deny itself the warmth of him so she curled more deeply into Erik and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“And you disappear.”  
***  
Erik had been craving the softness of her skin for forty-eight hours. From the time he’d watched her close the door behind him and pulled off the block with the echo of his engine behind him, he’d been counting down the minutes until he could get back to her. He’d found himself distracted enough that what was supposed to be a simple job had turned into a mess. He’d missed his target because his mind was elsewhere. It had taken hours for the opportunity to come around again and then another full day before he’d gotten his anger under control. He hadn’t wanted Salome to see him enraged so he’d sequestered until the need to touch her had been too overwhelming to ignore. 

Standing on the emptied street outside of the shop, he pulled in breath after breath until his hands stopped shaking enough to knock. He wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done in the time he’d been away, but this was the first time he was returning to her after doing so. What worried him was how she would react, whether or not she would push him away. Erik wasn’t sure what he would do if she turned her back on him. He was wise enough, and invested enough, to know that going back to what his life had been was impossible. You don’t get a glimpse of freedom and then find happiness back in a cage. Seeing the shapely shadow approaching the door had been like a wave of peace. Even from beyond the glass he could feel himself relaxing. Mating was a hell of a drug. 

Salome’s annoyance with him was justified. He knew that. They were just starting out and he was already slinking into the night whenever he was afraid of, or unwilling to, confront and control his feelings. Fear was not only for what happened once her identity was known, but also what would happen when she no longer wanted him. He was trying to be positive, but he had to be prepared for the worst. But for now all Erik wanted to do was breathe in the scent of her and feel the weight of her against him until he could anchor himself back to Earth. Salome was his port in the storm. 

He had been successful in not snipping back at her as he followed her into her office. He’d plopped down onto the sofa, grateful to be off his feet and away from chaos and destruction for just a little while. But he needed her closer, something she was unwilling to give in her anger. Tripping her had just been the quickest means to his desired end. The startled whoosh of air that pushed from her lips amused him as did the subtle way she tried to adjust herself to keep from crushing him. Or at least that’s what he assumed. He liked the way he could feel the in and out of her breath, the pump of her heart against him as she tried to calm herself down. The squirm of her hips was a treat, too. 

“Stay right where you are. I need this.” Saying the words in real time, to her, made his stomach clench. “Please.” 

“I’m too heavy, Erik.” 

He sucked his teeth and wrapped his arms around her more tightly. He burrowed his nose into the crook of her neck and breathed deeply. “You smell good.”

The vibration of her voice listing the perfume wrapped around him and all he wanted to do was fall asleep in that very moment. He couldn’t though. He needed to ask her something important. Something that couldn’t wait until the morning. Routine and ritual called for it. Hopefully she would grant his request.

***  
Erik’s request for her to help him make his mark was a heavy thing to carry. Salome had scribed upon the skins of countless people, but this was something different. This was her mate. A mate who was far deadlier than she would probably ever know, one who had spent years systematically creating a living reminder of what he’d done. She couldn’t help but to be fearful that she could never quite understand the gravity of what he was asking her to do or what she was willingly stepping into. 

“I want you to have a choice in what we share from now on. I can’t stop this, but I don’t want to take that from you.” 

Salome bit her tongue. He could stop this. He could stop killing. He could stop marking. He could change his entire life with her by his side. He was choosing this path. The reasons for this self-mutilation was still beyond her comprehension, but she knew that the scars and the actions behind them had honor to him. She knew he was on a journey. Maybe one day he would trust her enough to tell her the story, but for now she could only hold onto what he was willing to give and try to decipher who he was between the cracks he was beginning to show.

“No flowery shit, got it?” He was trying to put her at ease.

Salome broke from her thoughts and gave a small smile. “You said my choice.” 

Erik gripped her chin in his blunt-tipped fingers. “Your choice.”

She could read the thanks in his voice, his appreciation for her not pushing him away and for the compromise of accepting this tiny entry into his life. It was a small step, but it was more than he’d ever offered anyone. Salome knew that. She also knew that sooner than later that the damn inside of Erik would break. Or least she hoped it would. 

****  
Unlike the last time Erik taunted her hands were shaking, this time they actually were. Salome laid out her tools on the sterilized tray at her hip while Erik pulled his body onto the table and settled comfortably. He crossed his feet at the ankles and splayed his right arm on the extended rest next to where Salome were working.

The sensation of needles plunging into his skin, chased by the buzz of the tattoo gun’s motor, was new to Erik but it was in some ways soothing. Pain he was used to and this was just a new iteration. He was adept at pulling the shards of it into every bit of his mind, body, and soul. He knew how to parcel it out until he was able to either lock it away or let it go. He’d found some pain was useful. It taught him to be aware of his surroundings or to never underestimate a foe or even that he was still alive.

Erik was mesmerized by the black ink pressing into his skin and being wiped away with traces of his blood. If he concentrated he could slow down the insistent movement and see his flesh vibrating in staccato. There was honor in doing this. He could tell by how Salome had prepared both her equipment and his body. He’d watched her gather her items and lay them in an orderly row on a tray. He’d watched her wipe down the surfaces of everything and then sanitize his skin with gentle hands.

Now, there he was with Salome bent over his wrist using her skills to bring him back to his rituals and routines. She looked at peace and focused at the same time. Erik wanted to reach out and touch one of the tiny curls at the nape her neck, feel her shudder and then see the smile breaking free from her lips. But he let her work. Let her help him find a way out of what he’d always known and into a new life that included her standing beside him. 

The marking she was painting onto him was small, much too delicate for his frame, but it was a compromise with the woman Erik was now sure he was beginning to love. Destiny is one thing, opening your heart and your life to a mate was another. Salome was teaching him that. These softer ways were new to him and it was the first time in his recent memory that Erik could remember that he wasn’t an expert on something or the smartest person in the room.

Salome unfurled her body from her bent position and gave one last swipe of a clean towel over Erik’s skin. She coated the tattoo in a thin layer of protectant before glancing at him.

“All done.” She sounded nervous.

The infinity sign now adorning his skin looped and curved back into itself.

“Why this?” he questioned as he rotated his hand in the light to look at the ink from all angles. It was neatly pressed into his skin, a solid black reminder of the life he’d normally commemorate with a scar.

“Life is infinite. Even in death. You scar yourself to remember this, right?”

Erik shook his head. “My pops used to say the same thing. Death is not the end.”

“It’s really not, I suppose.” She looked down at the identical tattoo now slowly coming to solid on her own wrist. 

Erik caught the smallest slip of grin. “What’s that smile for?”

“For progress. Tell me more about your father.” 

Erik gave a chuckle and glanced down at the tattoo once more. “Aight. What if I told you he was a prince and I’m about to be a king?”


	9. Worlds Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: The Panties by Mos Def, I Want You by Marvin Gaye (A Capella with Bass and Congas), and Into Orbit by Alex Isley

Mornings are gold. When the sun filters into leaded glass at just the right angle, rooms shatter into light that looks like honey on a shelf. It was one of the reasons Salome chose this building. The small touches, the weathering of the wood and the speckled windows, showed age. But there was character, too. It made the world seem more solid to know that everything hadn’t just been built, that there was a history floating in the ether of the space that housed all of her dreams. History had a way of making her remember that there had been lives before hers and there would be lives after. What she hoped, before her time on the Earth was through, was that in some distant future someone would remember her, too.

This morning the air around her was gold and it was warm. It was lazy and even if she was still coming to full consciousness, she knew that once more by her side was Erik. She could feel the steadiness of his breathing behind her, the way the scars on his bare chest slid against the smoothness of her shoulder blades and made her shiver to waking. She was banded to his body by one thick arm, her head balanced in the crook of the other. She didn’t want to move. There was no place she would rather be. That was a hard truth to accept, but it was reality. Erik, for all the baggage he carried, was hers.

Salome wiggled and shifted until she was facing Erik. He pouted in his sleep and reattached himself to her without opening his eyes. It endeared him to Salome even more. She knew that sleep was at times a luxury for him. His ability to let go with her by his side made her happier than she expected. And he’d trusted her enough to tell the beginnings of his story, too. She knew of the passing of his mother and had felt distressed at the idea of young Erik beginning to lose his hold on family and stability. She’d listened with rapt attention as he dove into the story of his father and his home nation. And although she didn’t fully agree with his methods, she knew he genuinely thought he was on the path to making the world better. He’d understand her then. Or at least she hoped so.

Salome sloped her finger along Erik’s nose then curled her hand along his jaw. He snuggled into her palm and she swooned. She hoped that mornings like this would stretch on into forever, but the fear at the pit of her stomach told her that it wouldn’t. Not unless the both of them made drastic changes. Erik was revealing himself to her slowly, but surely. She, on the other hand, was still hiding behind her façade of naivete and reservation. If only he knew the truth.

***

Erik felt rested in a way that he’d long since given up on when his eyes opened. When they did, Salome was staring at him as if he would disappear at any moment.

“Hey.” His voice was gruff, deepened even more by sleep.

She couldn’t contain her smile. “Hey.”

He could get used to this. He could get way too comfortable waking up to that face and spending his time getting to know each bit of her. Erik knew he could fall easily into a life with Salome. What that life looked like outside of the bubble they’d created was beyond him, but the weight of her against him and the way she was looking at him, as if he was something to be cherished, was more than enough to make him try to find out. He pushed down the reminders that everything he’d loved had been snatched from him. He’d let himself have this, her, for as long as he could. Whatever tempering he needed to do would be done.

“What time is it?” He stretched momentarily and curled around her body again. He let his forehead rest against the rise of her chest and listened to her heart. When had he gotten this soft?

“After ten. Your phone has been vibrating like a son of a bitch,” she joked.

Erik cocked his head at her. “Watch your mouth, little one.”

The stubborn set of Salome’s jaw amused him.

“Or what?”

“Or I might just give you something to do with it,” he quipped as he flipped her fully beneath him. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

He hovered his lips a fraction from hers. Erik watched her pupils blow and picked up the increase in her heartbeat. Her final undoing was the flick of her tongue over her lips. Just a taste. One and he could start his day. He knew that once he unlocked his phone the next job would be awaiting him. Erik swept the thought to the side and pressed gently against Salome’s lips. They yielded to the slight pressure and her mouth unfurled beneath his. He cupped a hand behind her head to anchor her to him. He dipped into her mouth and felt as if the air was sucked from his body.

He heard her moan beneath him, felt the vibration rumble through him. He let his hand move from her head and join its twin which roamed up and over the peaks and valleys of her body. Erik wanted her more than anything in recent memory. He hitched one of her legs around his waist to get her closer. Maybe one more taste. He took that and a third before he came up for air. Duty called and couldn’t be ignored. With Salome now at his side, Erik couldn’t afford to have anyone come looking for him.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the pride that burst forth at the shaky breaths she drew in and the way she looked at his lips as if they were some kind of magic. Against better judgement he moved towards Salome again, but a distinctive ringtone stopped him cold. His worlds were starting to collide and Erik was hard pressed to figure out how to stop the impact.

***

Salome curled her legs beneath her in the chair. She shifted her body until she was facing Erik. His profile was beautiful. His scruff of beard made her almost want to reach out and plunge her fingers into it. She didn’t. Instead, she concentrated on mapping his face as she had that morning. The dusk of his lips. The unruliness of his eyebrows. The deep dimples that appeared and faded as he worked his jaw or smiled. But what she was beginning to love the most were the caverns of his eyes. They were impossibly dark. At times it seemed that darkness was endless, like he wasn’t there. In other moments, it seemed like he’d captured the sun within them. This was when he was smiling. Salome loved it when Erik smiled. It wasn’t often, but when it happened it was glorious. It was like his entire face cracked open and the trouble he held so tightly seeped out just a little bit.

“You ever wonder what peace looks like?”

Erik kept his eyes locked to the phone he’d been checking periodically. His movements were a blur across the screen. While one hand was occupied by the business of his day, the other was gripping her thigh. He contemplated for a moment. Splashes of the waning light of evening flickered over the interior of the office. It caught the best parts of his face and she sighed. His fingers squeezed in response. All of her fluttered.

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“What’s the point of thinking about something that you’ll never see?”

The resignation in his voice made Salome sad. “You really believe that?”

“Yea. Life ain’t easy. Never has been. Probably never will be.”

Salome shifted again until she was in his orbit. This time he turned to her briefly and gave a smile. It was crooked and weak, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“My life isn’t like yours. Comfortable and shit.”

Salome felt herself recoil. What did he know about her life other than the small bits of it they’d shared between the shop, his car, and the street? There was no doubt his life was miles more violent than hers and she certainly had never taken a life. Willingly that is. She shuddered at the memory and tried to push it down as best she could. She moved to leave, but his grip tightened.

“What do you know about my life, Erik? That I own a business? That I can’t handle myself on the other side of a gun?”

He turned to her again. He looked confused.

“My life isn’t perfect. Never has been. But I survive however I can. Just like you.”

***

The ledger was well worn, the gilded edges showing the markings of generations of fingers. The leather, oxblood and ominous, was cracked with age. But the tome was far from battered. It just appeared to be a part of daily life. It was both used and important. Erik watched as Salome placed it on the table between them. She tapped at the cover absently as if trying to decide something. She looked at it, her eyes fixated, before she swept her gaze up to meet his. She sighed heavily.

“No one ever questions how the world works, you know? We just assume that things move like they are supposed to.”

Erik held her gaze, but this was the first time he felt a spike of fear. Her words were low and had he not felt as if the world was closing in around him he would have reveled in the silkiness of it.

Salome resumed her tapping on the book’s cover. “You see the world is already made for us by the time we come to full knowing. Children get told what the world is and how it works. We never question how things came to be or why they continue the way they are.”

She flipped open to the first page. Erik could make out script. It was old. A modern hand hadn’t written it. His curiosity piqued.

“Chalk up it to ignorance, contentment, or fear. Whatever it is? We do what we’ve always known.”

“You sound like you know something the rest of us don’t.”

“I do. I know that man doesn’t control nature, but we can control ourselves. We can make ourselves, and others, see exactly what we want.”

Erik didn’t like the sadness creeping into her voice. It made him feel as if there was something out of both of their controls and if that was the case he wasn’t sure how to fix it. Salome’s light had dimmed and he wanted to fight every bit of darkness for her.

“You know how you manipulate the world by ending lives? By clearing the path towards the life you want?”

Erik nodded slowly and watched her closely. He got the feeling that whatever she was about to say hadn’t hit too many ears. He felt honored to have the privilege, but knew in the same turn he now had yet another thing to protect. Salome’s secrets were now his. What she didn’t want to come to light would remain in darkness until she told him otherwise.

“I’m the same I suppose. Except I just make sure people do what is demanded of them.”

The look on his face spurned her to continue.

“When the time comes we activate. Sometimes what needs to be done in the world needs a push. You ever see that movie Wanted? Angelina Jolie and Common? It’s kinda like that, but with a little more finesse. Lots less blood or at least that’s we see.”

“What do you mean activate? We? Like some kinda sleeper cell?”

The military man in him perked up. Intrigue and subterfuge always caught his attention. But now that it was wrapped up in his mate Erik wasn’t sure how to react. Salome chuckled as she flipped a few more pages. As she did the script shot forward into the present.

“Something like that. I didn’t fall into this profession by chance. It’s heredity. Spans across generations. The ledger helps us keep track. We are simply the background music to what moves the world.”

“I don’t understand. You can’t force mating.”

“You’re right. But you can control who people believe they are mated to. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

She seemed angry at herself and bit into her lip.

“Look, sometimes we need to step in to make sure the world moves forward as it should. Lives have to be ended, strategies employed to keep a balance.”

“A balance for who? This shadowy ass we? Because that sounds like mercenary work to me. No different than what I do.”

“Except we aren’t out for personal gain. We are making sure the world is fair. Taking out those who would make this planet fall even faster than it already is. A little bait and switch goes a long way.”

“So, my regaining my legacy is bullshit?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying. The question becomes, love. What are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good? Your rightful place atop a singular nation or one that allows you to alter the face of the world?”

Salome leaned back into the chair; one hand draped across the open pages of the ledger. Her study of it pissed him off.

“The ledger made you write those messages?” The sarcasm in his voice was thick.

“I had to.” Salome’s voice was tiny in the echo of the room. “The ledger leaves me no choice.”

She shook her head again and rephrased her thoughts.

“No. I wanted you before I even knew who you were, but once you were revealed I wanted to get to you first. Figured I could protect both of us.”

“So, you pull me into your manifest destiny bullshit in order to accomplish yours, huh? What do you gain?”

“An assassin at our beck and call who’d do whatever he was told to keep his mate safe. Love. Your safety.”

“Y’all should be worried about being safe from me.”

“I figured that would be your response. Your name floats Erik. It rings bells that pushes our mission forward. If what you told me about wanting to protect our people in this very land is true, how can you not at least consider it?”

Erik pushed from his seat as the realization settled in around him. He was tethered to her now. Not just by some mysterious societal expectation, but by actual emotions. He’d begun to crave her presence, felt charged when she was near and drained when she wasn’t. Understanding was still forming in his mind. There were so many more questions he wanted, needed, to ask of her. The mere fact he was curious was damning. What could he change given a world of resources behind him?

“You decide the path you want to take. I won’t sway you either way. Hell, I’ll even go with you if that’s where your heart leads.”


End file.
